The Whisper
A Guide to the Dragonets of “The Whisper” 'Part One ~ Life is Complicated' Chapter One Nightwatcher was reading her favourite book, when she felt something was off. The wind gusted into the classroom ominously, as the clouds seemed to rush to get away from an unknown predicament. The teacher, Mr Secrete, was casually writing something down at his desk, when he suddenly looked up, seemingly bewildered. He turned his near-black evergreen eyes to her. She looked down naturally, pretending to read the book whos’ words appeared to just vanish as soon as she looked at them from her intuition. Something was wrong, she could feel it, the tension in the room. Even Farstep, a half-moon born dragoness was looking up, then at Night, pushing away the odd sense of wrongness just as Secrete had. Her wings suddenly itched to move, her talons twitching with an urge she couldn't quite comprehend. She had to let the urge break free, let it sail in the wind. Maybe she would go for a fly with Teardrop at break. Not the time, Nightwatcher, she silently instructed herself. The low chatter began to diminish as Night quietly slid out the archway of her small Wing Seven classroom as an excuse to leave and escape the sudden claustrophobia. It wasn’t often that she felt this feeling, of being trapped. It was truly horrific. Running into the bathroom, her claws scattered across the slippery concrete, and a dripping facet dripped, echoing across the empty corridor. She swiftly ran to a stall, hinges creaking softly as she gently closed the door, the torches flickering faintly. She jumped as one crackled, trying to calm her pounding heart. Closing her eyes, she the futures fold in, countless about what she should eat for dinner, regrets, possible marks for her next math tests, then one struck her like a blow to the stomach, a pounding in her skull, crawling slowly up her spine. It struck, a prophecy, and she yelped at the prompt pain in her temples. She grasped her head, bringing herself into a curled position, hugging herself and tightening her talons against her rib cage. Then... it was all calm. Even the clatter of sleeping branches and howling wind went fainter, as a peaceful feeling washed over her like a warm, summer wave. She began to whisper involuntarily, a small, quiet prophecy; Turn your eyes, your wings, your fire ''To the unseen threat ''It will conquer, devour, unseen and unmet ''Only to whisper it’s vague regret ''As reality begins to lose its purpose ''It weakens those who fret ''It will crawl, and find the heart of them all… ''Until all you have known is dead. Chapter Two Frigid woke to the pale grey dawn light that reminded him of dirty snow. He shivered rashly, squinting his eyes out at the rising red sun that already shone ablaze, warming his scales but failing to melt the permafrost that had just settled in. As he got up, he winced at the day old bruise along his right side, and pushed away many thoughts of anger, longing, and mostly aching sadness at something he didn’t know yet. Half limping down the bitter hall, he came to the entrance of his section of the Palace, and already dragons were bustling around, though the Gift of Light kept dragons guessing whether it was dawn or twilight. Slumping his books across one wing, attaching the rope on the other side, he grabbed a quick bite of seal his mother had left. She was obviously hurrying, as dried, half dripped blood gleamed on the edge of the sleek ice table. He continued out the door, the sun a torrent of translucent red as it reflected through Queen Snowfall’s Ice Palace. I’ve always thought the Ice Palace seemed a little... much, Frigid reflected, frowning as usual. His steps hastened as he finally finished chewing his seal, the fat sticking in a few of his fangs. As school came into view, he could almost feel the eyes of his enemies burning into his side, thinking, that scar looks fresh... a weak spot. Perfect. Feeling bitter, trying to squash down the resentment, he found himself feeling numb, like he was walking on a cloud. Everything felt... weird. A sudden pain struck his skull, thudding against his spine. He carefully touched his head, wincing. His stomach riled for a second, wondering what was wrong with him. It felt like that frostbreath scar he’d gotten from... him, but on his head. He shook himself, finding his talons instinctively luring him to his first class of the day, studying other tribe weaknesses. The board read; NightWings and the Fake Catastrophe, turn to page 341. School passed by fast, and suddenly he found it was lunch. He sat down alone, and took awhile to hunt a ptarmigan and a type of grey catfish looking animal. He slowed down, enjoying this odd sense of peace in the empty tundra that was dotted with wildflowers. The cold cut through his scales like a blade, chilling him down to his underscales. He watched as an arctic fox sprinted out from behind a snowdrift, and snatched an unsuspecting hare in the distance. He started back, and when he started to pass a large snowdrift, he knew he should have been more careful. The wind. It had been blowing against his face. That’s why he hadn’t heard, or scented, them coming. A snicker and a laugh and the drift of powder disintegrated as three dragonets jumped out upon him. He started to fly towards the Ice Castle, maybe hoping to get closer to run to after he was beat up? A yank on his tail and a cuff over the horns meant that they had come. Freeze and his gang. For him. Pinned down by who he thought was White Fox, the other three surrounding him, he knew that he had no point in struggling and calmed his body from wriggling to break free. There leader, who was, ironically, named Frigid too, approached him, head held high and strutting like a cat. “Hello, Frigid,” he spat out his name like it was a piece of rot-food. The dark blue IceWing clawed at his wing, then pummelled his bruise. He yelled, and they hit harder. The pain was shocking, and before he knew it, blue blood was pooling onto the ice beside him, and he was left alone on the icy tundra. Chapter Three Nightwatcher let out her breath. Had anyone heard her? Had she been seen? She poked her head under the stall, sighing with relief. Nobody was there. She stood up, wondering what she should do. I could just go back to class and hope that my classmates don’t realize how panicked I seem, Night pondered. I won’t run away, no. Too many possible things go wrong... she could see the possibilities growing in her mind, not even needing to look down the paths to know how much trouble she would get in, not to mention how sad Teardrop and Stardreamer would be. She stood up, her legs shaky and her lip twitching. She shook herself, washed her talons with soothing warm pond water, and walked out into the hall. She walked into the classroom, and luckily only a few eyes were brought to her. The supposed dragon who was crushing on her had his brown eyes fixed on her, Farstep’s dark blue ones, Swiftmartin’s nice but demanding azure ones, but she usual called her Mrs Martin, and a few others she ducked her head to the side for. It was midday, as the huge bell outside was rung by the Vice Principal of the school, Noble, and her class transitioned to math and fractions which she actually enjoyed. Recess was fun, she spent most of her time just standing there with Dreams and Teardrop, though Dreams was pretty good at just talking and not getting awkward or offended when nobody replied. The end of the day was Old Tongue Class, where they’d speak the Old Tongue that they were trying to bring back since Clearsight had gone to Pantala and switched the language to the Dragon or Modern Tongue. Then was a catch-up class, and Night just wrote the whole time, genuinely bored. As soon as she’d flown home, she went to her room to record her prophecy. Why do I have to be the one to have a prophecy? I can’t even talk to teacher, I’m too shy. Three moons. Her mind grumbled. If this is my destiny, then it has to turn out right. I hope. Her room was a mess. Pencils lay across the floor, and her sketch books sprawled about the polished wood ground. Her desk was full of homework, and books with bookmarks in them waiting to be read, and her dresser had her bracelets in sets of two in a messy line near the edge. She took out her dream journal and a feather she’d split in half but was still legible to use, and began to write; The Whisper Turn your eyes, your wings, your fire ''To the unseen threat ''It will conquer, devour, unseen and unmet ''Only to whisper it’s vague regret ''As reality begins to lose its purpose ''It weakens those who fret ''It will crawl, and find the heart of them all… ''Until all you have known is dead. She began to brainstorm ideas for what it might mean. Possibly some evil, like The Darkstalker crawling out of the mountain, but a different dragon instead, or something from another continent... it does say “''As reality begins to lose it’s purpose”''... Nightwatcher was at a loss. Why did it have to be her, out of all the mind readers and fortellers at school? She curled up on her bed with a book, opening it to a random page, and sighed. Chapter Four Frigid got up, splashing freezing, icy water upon his wounds and grabbing a piece of slushy ice pack and pressing it on his bruise. He glanced at the sun. He was missing his biology class. He growled in spite of himself. I may as well go home. I’ll lie that I was sick or... something. He flew home, taking the back pathways and willing himself not to stop at any shops except to pick up dinner. He picked up a goose, it’s feathers bloody from a messy catch. The bite wasn’t clean either, as it had clearly suffered, he could tell, from it’s horrific expression and endless shriek that would echo silently forever. He threw it onto the counter as he stomped to his room, grabbing his homework he’d left behind in a hurry and beginning to continue his assignment, which was to pick a tribe to research about. He’d picked the NightWings, eager to learn about their past and if they’d really had powers, and if Moonwatcher was a faker too. Grrr, he growled, Stupid glare. He silently cursed at the bright reflection that clashed with his scroll and the light that bounced off into his clear blue eyes. He lay on his bed grumbling, and must have fallen asleep, as the glare was gone when he opened his eyes after what had seemed such a short time. A bang on the door and a sudden commotion from outside told him his mother, Hurricane, had arrived. “Ahhh! Fridge, are you home already?” She said in her croaky voice, “Oh, you picked up some grub! That’s nice. Didn’t I already tell you to get down here?” Frigid sighed. “Coming!” He tried to sound cheerful, but it came out lame as usual. He could feel his tail lugging across the ground, and he nearly ran into the wall with sudden tiredness. “Would you stop lugging that tail around?” She grunted, giving him an “I can’t believe you’re doing that!” look. She looked back down at chopping the goose’s head and plucking off feathers. He waiting patiently, his mind wandering to a place where no words were thought, until his mother coughed at him and threw him a chunk of the wing. She kept looking over at him like she wanted to say something, and she finally did, Category:Fanfictions Category:Fanfictions (Incomplete) Category:Fanfictions (Semi-Canon) Category:Genre (Adventure) Category:Genre (Prophecy) Category:Content (Moonbreeze427) Category:Work In Progress